Truth and Reconciliation
by RuthieBelle
Summary: After tragedy, can everything truly be the same as it once was? William and Julia face the most devastating events in their relationship: how will they deal with the feelings and the facts? Spoilers for 11x17 & 11X18 finale- WARNING: Do not read if you don't want to be spoiled! (Formerly "Darkness Descending")
1. Darkness Descending

Title: Darkness Descending

Author: Ruthiebelle

Rating: T for now. We'll see if this changes.

Warnings: Major spoilers for 11x17 Shadows Falling. You have been warned. Seriously. Trigger for miscarriage and its physical aftermath.

Genre: Angst and Romance.

Summary: "Apparently 'til death do us part' didn't mean one of us, it apparently meant the death of our child instead."

Disclaimer: We don't own MM. Seriously, if w did, one of us wouldn't be watching the calendar until retirement, and the other wouldn't be watching the calendar until summer vacation.

Note: If you like it, we are fairly certain that there will be more following Monday's episode.

* * *

With alternating waves of sorrow, hurt, grief, and disbelief washing over her like a torrent of summer rain, Julia didn't know what to think or feel as the door closed behind him.

"Come back," she whispered into her palms that still covered her face. "Please come back. Please don't leave me, William," she whispered so softly even she could scarcely hear it, before she instead choked out a sob. Not that it mattered any bit, as she could have screamed her plea and it wouldn't change the fact that he'd left her.

Rushing over to the window, she parted the curtains to look outside. Surely he would turn around to look for her, surely he would come back if he saw her.

But he didn't even pause, let alone turn around. He walked down the front steps and turned left with no hesitation. As she stood there, she couldn't help but recall his words, cold and uttered without feeling. She felt as though she'd been slapped as she remembered how he'd stepped back from her in revulsion and disgust. Standing there she realized the cold, hard truth. Once upon a time, William had promised her that he'd love her until the stars went out. But he'd lied, as it was strikingly evident. Losing their child had hardened his heart against her. The cold, unavoidable fact remained: he didn't love her anymore.

"He's gone," she cried out to no one but her self, "he's really gone. He's not coming back," she murmured as another wave of pain washed over her and she cried out again.

She wasn't sure if it was her body still recovering from her loss, or her heart actually breaking into a million pieces.

 _If such a thing were actually possible_ , she thought with a laugh

With fresh tears stinging her eyes, she walked over to the drink cart and mulling her options of wine, port, or sherry, she wrinkled her brow in distaste as she decided that she wanted none of them. Instead, she picked up the phone and requested a bottle of Irish whiskey to be brought up. Tonight as she drank in memory of their love she wanted a drink that burned as much as her heart did.

* * *

 _Get out!_

 ** _Get out!_**

 ** _GET OUT!_**

Julia's demand jarred sharply inside William's skull, repeating and repeating as each step took him further and further away into the fog-swirled darkness. He could not feel his flesh, the uneven pavement, the damp chill against his face and chest, nor notice the passersby who gave odd looks to that man with tears streaming down his cheeks.

He could not afford to feel his head pound or the grinding of his teeth and jaw; could not afford to feel the nausea in the pit of his stomach or the acid rise up his gullet. He didn't know his fingernails were gouging bloody crescents in his nerveless palms, stuffed inside his coat pockets.

…All because he could not bear the frozen vice-grip where his heart used to be. William Murdoch was numb to all of it, unaware as his foot splashed into a deep, oily puddle, as he went marching away, directionless and lost…

 _…Lost my child, lost my chance at fatherhood, lost my home and now lost my…_ _Everything_ _…_

The angry sob erupting from his throat startled a carriage horse, earning him some invective from its cabbie. A lamppost came up too swiftly, tearing at the fabric of his coat as he stumbled along, eyes open yet unseeing. His mind was chaotic. His thoughts could not focus. His legs might as well have been those of an automaton, moving him street by street _away_. Just _away_.

* * *

Glancing again at the cart, Julia thought back to her own promise that she would never drink scotch or whiskey again after she admitted to hallucinating Eva Pearce during her recovery last year. Not only had she promised herself, she'd also promised William that she wouldn't imbibe that particular spirit again. But if William could break promises, then she could as well.

 _He isn't here to say anything about it, is he? Besides, seeing as I've lost both my husband and child in the span of just a few days, I think I deserve this._

Gathering her composure, she was determined not to cry in front of the hotel staff, and busying herself, she searched for her reticule and took out enough cash for a tip. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she dried her eyes and wiped the tears from her face when she spied a glimpse of their wedding picture. Not in the mood to be mocked by a happy couple passionately in love and full of promise for the future, she turned the photograph face down. She'd deal with it tomorrow.

Thankfully, the whiskey arrived promptly and Julia tipped the man well before quickly closing the door, ignoring the man's attempts at polite conversation. She simply wasn't capable of it tonight. Locking the door behind him, she exhaled a deep breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding and gave herself permission to finally let her grief flow in a way that she hadn't been able to since Nate Desmond had come to their door. Forgetting any training about easing down onto a couch with ladylike grace, she collapsed in a sprawling heap and poured herself a drink. Finally alone with her sorrow, this time she did not stop the tears or grief. There was no one to be strong for anymore.

* * *

 _Oh Julia…how could you?_

William's grief and sorrow for their child were a bottomless cavern. Impossible to believe, harder yet, he was torn about which was more devastating: that Julia lied, withheld her knowledge about the true connections between the Desmonds and the victim's wife, or how those lies nearly resulted in a gross miscarriage of justice?

He snorted angrily. ' _Miscarriage' of justice…No. I never really understood what that meant before…_

Was the real grotesquery that she participated in the abortion?

...Or was it the knowledge that the woman he loved and married could actually, apparently proudly, believe that their own, poor, dead, unborn little girl was unworthy of the name 'child,' undeserving of mourning? William shut his eyes against the memory to no avail. His keen visual recollection replayed the scene over and over with painful detail: Julia standing there, prevaricating then defiant.

 _She did not really deny the_ _ **truth**_ _, either._

Truth.

Before he realized it was happening, he was spewing and gagging on his knees along the side of a building. His retching brought commentary about public drunkenness and a kick in his ribs from a self-righteous citizen who yelled, "Serves you right, you old sot!" as the young man and his friends laughed at William's humiliation.

 _Yes..._ he thought. _We all get what we deserve… where did I hear that? When did I_ _ **say**_ _that?_

* * *

Crying, she shook her head as she allowed thoughts of despair and hopelessness to overtake her. Thoughts she hadn't entertained since Eva Pearce had tried to kill her and she'd suffered survivor's guilt returned with full force like a blow to her chest. " _I'm sorry I lived, William. I'm sorry I didn't die when Eva shot me. Perhaps you would have remarried by now. Perhaps you might even have the child you so desperately need. I'm sorry I got your hopes up. I let you down again."_

She downed her first glass and quickly poured another two fingers as she ignored the sticky discomfort of the blood as it pooled between her legs. Like her heart, her arms ached for the daughter they would never hold. Never would she know the joy of cradling her child against her breast, kissing the top of her head as she sang lullabies. That gift was denied her just as the pleasure of growing old with William by her side now was. She howled in pain and in devastation as the sum total of her losses became evident. She cried even louder if such a thing were possible.

But she gave in, and decided to embrace the grief. Tonight she would mourn. Tomorrow she would rebuild.

* * *

After hauling himself up, he cleaned his face with a handkerchief and spat out what he could from his mouth, then wiped his shoes. He peered for a long time at the soiled square of linen, trying to work out what to do with it, his brain refusing to problem-solve. Eventually he shrugged and placed it in an alleyway rubbish bin, unmindful that with just a little water it would be good as new again.

 _Nothing was ever going to be good as new again, was it?_ That wasn't a voice, exactly. But he heard it, pushing through the oatmeal that replaced his usually quick mind.

The 'voice' cackled: _After all, she threw one baby away_.

Memories of so much hurt from so many years ago roiled his guts: Julia explaining about her own abortion. That she did not regret it. That she as not ashamed nor did she feel guilty.

 _I thought it was in the past. I thought I could understand, forgive her_.

William tilted a little off balance, so he leaned on a call box for support, something solid, something he understood. Because he surely did not understand how repulsed he had been by Julia in their suite. She was a stranger to him, an imposter staring out from her blue eyes… He could barely look her.

Now his chest clenched and burned again.

 _Get out!_

…So he went.

He needed to get away. On and on, his feet carried him past landmarks which seemed foreign now; rage and agony blinding him to his surroundings. He was only vaguely aware of heading towards St. Paul's. Unbidden, unguided, he somehow arrived at the bottom of a steep flight of stone steps, the triptych of Roman arches waiting to embrace him if only he could find the strength to put one foot up and then another to go inside. The pews were waiting. The candles. The Blessed Mother. If he only asked, the priest would come to his aide. Yet his enervated limbs would not budge.

William tried to remove his hat to pray right there on the steps, automatically reaching up to take it off…but it was missing. He had no idea where he lost it…probably in that alleyway where he embarrassed himself.

He struggled to remember, his head feeling as foggy as the night air. He tried to clear his thoughts with a rough shake of his head.

 _What had really happened?_ He had been so angry, felt so betrayed. Three days ago, Nate Desmond came to his home, begged for his assistance, for his trust. He had set aside his own grief to help, only no one trusted him enough to be honest with him!

 _Including my own wife!_ His groan was swallowed by darkness.

So many lies, so many reasons to cover up the truth. Lies within lies. He remembered seeing the guilt on Julia's face, standing there with Rebecca and Nate, down in the cells, sickening him, confirming his suspicions that Julia had helped in the abortion, somehow. By the time he arrested Mr. Luff he had no words for what he felt…it took all he had to contain his emotions, to do his duty amidst so much death.

He needed consolation. He needed confession. He needed…something. Yet he could not bring himself to enter the sanctuary to pray.

He could not go on, could not leave. His legs might have weighed a ton each, hurt and anger chaining him firmly to the walkway. He just stood there in the blaze of Hell.

 _Julia lied to me; she did not trust me._

His shoulders stiffened, recalling her face, practically proud of the fact she has no moral compunction about abortion at all…

Anger flooded back and his stomach threatened to rebel again. _And I see I should not have trusted_ _ **her**_ _, either._

He ran stiff fingers through his hair then pulled his hands in front of his face. In the darkness he examined his them, registering dull surprise at the welts he'd dug with his nails, and the broken knuckles on his swollen right hand from connecting with that constable and that door. William gazed back up at St. Paul's façade, looking for the familiar, for something to anchor himself to. Then he closed his eyes, picturing the quiet interior, the beautiful paintings which usually soothed his troubled mind. He even imagined the subtle smell of incense. Why could he not go inside?

 _Dear Lord, what am I to do?_

 _Did_ he believe God was punishing them? _Did he?_

When Julia threw that at him he'd been speechless. William knew his Bible, easily calling up the scripture, the words which had caused him so much shattering grief: **"…The LORD** ** _is_** **longsuffering, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing** ** _the guilty_** **, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth** ** _generation_** **.** **…"**

William exhaled a cloud of warm breath into the cold air. _Perhaps it was never up to_ _ **me **__to forgive her…._

Trembling, William got down, kneeling on a hard slate paver to bless himself, clasping his hands to pray. But no prayers came to his lips. When he opened his mouth, an anguished howl was all that emerged from his throat.

* * *

At some point during the night, sometime after she'd consumed a fifth of whiskey, she'd had enough wherewithal to change into a nightdress and drag herself to bed. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought to close the doors to the bedroom and as a result, the morning sun woke her, taking no pity on her pounding head. She wasn't sure how much she'd slept, but it probably wasn't enough as she felt as though a coach traveling at a high rate of speed had hit her.

Deciding that a nice full, breakfast was in order, she stumbled out of bed to call down for breakfast as she realized that while she had thought to dress for bed, she had not changed her rags and she had bled quite profusely during the night. She also requested that her bed linens be changed as she requested that food be sent up.

 _So much for our vows. In sickness and health, for better or worse…what I fool I was when I believed that you meant it, William Murdoch. I'm still bleeding from the loss of our child, I'm still in pain and the great William Murdoch has left his wife to fend for herself. Upright and righteous man? Most assuredly not. More like hypocritical and judgmental man is more like it,_ she scoffed as she added her ruined nightdress to the pile of soiled bed linens.

* * *

"Why, Mr. Murdoch! Whatever are you doing on my front stoop?" Mrs. Kitchen stood there with bucket and broom, her foyer gaslight making a halo of her hair. "You can't be here for a trim. It's not Wednesday," she said reasonably.

William roused himself from where he had dragged his body to rest. He'd forgotten that Mrs. Kitchen was always up at 5:30 o'clock to wash the front steps before preparing her boarders' breakfast. Everything hurt as he pushed himself upright, his ribs punishing him with every deep breath.

"My hat." He said the first thing that came to his mind. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I was wondering if I could have my old hat you were blocking for me?" He stood there, knowing he was ridiculous, hoping the darkness hid his appearance well enough; it would not do to worry the woman. Mrs. Kitchen looked at him, skepticism plainly evident, so he tried a disarming smile.

His face must have scared her because she backed up a tiny bit and was silent for a moment, peering at him on the gloom. She dropped her shoulders and shrugged. "Of course, of course Mr. Murdoch. Er…would you care to come in and have some breakfast? The oatmeal will be cooked soon."

"No…No thank you." He shook his head, shrinking into his coat. "I will take what I came for and leave, thank you."

Hat in hand William bid good bye, walking stiffly to the sidewalk, then turning south down Ontario Street. It was stupid, of course, but he felt marginally better with his hat. _Now what?_ he wondered. _The Station House? No._ While he was tempted to have a wash up and change his shirt, he was in no mood for questions. No mood for consolation.

Last night he was unable to bring himself to enter Church, only prayed outside until his knees gave out and then a little longer as a martyr to the pain. It didn't help. Nothing changed. No peace. No direction. Once he gave up on that, he had walked slowly towards his old lodgings, tracing a path he knew instinctually. As he did so, he found he was he watching himself as if from a distance, behaving like some sort of homing pigeon, with that mocking 'voice' calling him out for trying to walk into the past, to turn back time in some way in his quest for sanctuary.

Actually seeing Mrs. Kitchen made him realize that he was indeed a fool, and a pathetic one at that. What did he think he was doing there? Practically no one knew they were expecting a child and certainly there was no one with whom he could discuss Julia's actions. Not even his priest. No…There was no one to share his pain with, no one with whom he could make sense out of any of this.

 _I am on my own…_

 _Again._

* * *

An hour later saw fresh linens on her bed, and a full stomach that helped quell Julia's hangover. She'd even called the Inspector to tell him that she wouldn't be in. He'd seemed oddly reticent, but merely bade her a speedy recovery. _At least he has enough tact to not ask me the question I know he must want to ask._

Looking about the suite, she thought about how she could spend the day and though her body still hurt and her heart still stupidly hoped for William's return, she'd already resolved to not mourn any more for him. He didn't deserve it, she reminded her heart.

Deciding that she could do something productive, she decided that helping William with gathering his things would be best. This way, if he were to come collect them while she was out or not, it would minimize the time she'd have to see him. _Perhaps if I remove all trace of him, I won't be reminded of him so much._

Calling down again for crates and his trunk to be brought up, Julia began by walking to the wardrobe and removing his suits and shirts, grabbing a handful of hangers and all and tossing them onto the bed before walking over to the chest of drawers and clearing them of his undergarments. Soon she was walking around the suite grabbing anything that belonged to him and when the porters brought the trunk and crates up, they even assisted her with packing his belongings away without question. Any pains of longing were deliberately squashed as she busied herself with ridding her life of the detritus of William Murdoch. She would mourn her child; a daughter she would never know. But William Murdoch was nothing to her now, just someone she used to know, and someone she used to love. Nothing less, nothing more.

After they had left, she stood in the living room admiring her morning's work when she was struck by the finality of the matter. Was removing William from her life really so simple as packing him away into a neat pile? "It'll have to be," she murmured to herself in response to her unspoken question. "He's gone, he's left me, he's broken our marriage vows," she whispered. "There's nothing for it."

 _Apparently 'til death do us part' didn't mean one of us, it apparently meant the death of our child instead._ Suddenly any energy she'd had was now gone and the gaping chasm of grief that had nearly consumed her last night threatened to do so again.

Deciding that she could mourn no more at the present for her lost family, love and happy home life, she opted for a sleeping draught after realizing that she perhaps she would be better able to move forward once she was better rested.

Before slipping into bed, she opened her wardrobe and took out the christening gown she'd bought for their daughter. Fingering the soft and delicate lace, her heart burned thinking about how Mary Murdoch would never wear it. Her beaming father would never proudly carry her to the baptismal font. She would never know how much she was loved, and she would never know how much she would be missed.

Clutching the gown to her chest, she slipped under the covers, and as she lay in bed waiting for the draught to take hold, she stared at where William once slept and imagined him there next to her, offering his silent support as they mourned Mary's loss together. Drifting off, her hand absentmindedly stroked his pillow as tears escaped her eyes without permission.

* * *

He pushed his way through a crooked doorway into the dark interior, the smell of unwashed bodies, beer and whisky hitting him in the low-ceilinged room. Workers stood three deep at the bar for their morning pint before work to laugh and joke. He waited patiently until the men cleared out for the day-shift and a seat opened up. He scanned the room, hoping Hodge was not at work yet.

He grabbed a stool and stared at the grubby mirror behind the bar. Yes… he identified the profile, the homburg, but he hardly recognized himself, the poor-quality reflection notwithstanding. His face was a rigid mask, his eyes black holes.

"Detective Murdoch! It's good to see you, again. What can I do for you?"

The sudden appearance of Hodge startled him. Belatedly, William patted his pockets hoping he had some money or his wallet on him, rooting around until he found four dollars and some coins. He pushed two-bits over. "A whiskey please, if you will."

The man looked surprised for a brief moment before quickly recovering his composure. "Of course, Detective," he nodded, immediately preparing the drink without further comment.

He considered his resources. It was enough for a few meals if Hodge was kind, and a bed for a week if he were careful with it.

 _A week…_ William's eyes filled.

 _A week ago I heard our baby's heartbeat._ ' _Our' daughter… A week ago, life was normal._ _ **I**_ _was normal._ _ **We**_ _were normal. Then death, distrust and betrayal…If only…_

That sneering, sarcastic 'voice' jumped in again with a reminder: _Time only goes one way, William. You know that._

William nodded to the reflection behind the bar, wiping his nose and dropping his head in sorrow. _The problem is,_ he answered, _as sad, disgusted and angry as I am…_

His eyes returned to the reflection in front of him.

The doppelganger in the mirror looked back: _The problems is,_ a _s sad, disgusted, and angry as you are…_

 _You still love her._


	2. Light Ascending

Upon waking, Julia closed her eyes against the bright sun and reached across the bed for William as she did almost every morning. But instead of his warm body, she only caressed cool linen, completely bereft of his presence, and she was immediately buffeted by the realization that things were not well between them, as the events of the past 24 hours filtered through her mind again, rendering away any rejuvenating feelings that the sleep may have imparted.

His absence was keenly felt at that moment, and she wondered if she hadn't been too hasty earlier in packing away his things, but then she remembered what he'd said, and how he'd walked out on her, and pain washed anew over her.

She hadn't left him; he'd abandoned her.

Groaning in exasperation, she flung back the covers as she began to get ready for the day. Though she'd told herself that she wouldn't mourn the loss of William after the first night, she found that she didn't even listen to herself, as her heart stubbornly longed for him. Though she was angry, a part of her wanted to see him and talk to him in the light of the day, to find a resolution. But as her heart seesawed between hurt at her losses and anger at betrayal, her anger flared. He wasn't just hurt, his heart was hardened towards her. _He doesn't love me anymore,_ her heart cried as it ached in pain again.

She was a woman of action, indecision did not suit her at all. Yet, here she was, at an impasse with no idea how to proceed. Well, if William wouldn't come to her, surely the Inspector knew where he was.

With William missing without a trace (not even the men of Station House #4 knew where he was), Julia surmised that perhaps she had her answer, even if she didn't like it. Thus, she began tying up any loose ends as she would try to move forward. Therefore gathering what little strength and courage she had left, Julia walked through the doors of St. Michael's hospital and down the long corridor to the maternity ward, steeling herself against the onslaught of happy mothers and babies. Clenching her jaw, she stared down at the ground and concentrated on the tapping of her heels against the white tiles. She didn't dare look up until she reached the nurse's station.

"Mrs. Murdoch, how are you feeling today? Is there a problem?" the nurse asked.

So anxious to complete her task, she didn't even bother with correcting the woman in regards to her name. "I'm well, thank you. I'm just here to collect my daughter's remains. I spoke with Dr. Edwards about this a few days ago and he told me I could come for them," she replied, inwardly wincing at her own choice of words.

 _My daughter's remains. What a horrible phrase._

"Yes, ma'am. However, your husband already made arrangements for them to be cremated. I'm afraid I don't know who performed the service," the nurse answered, suddenly puzzled.

"I see. Thank you," Julia replied and quickly turned on her heel, eager to leave the building as quickly as she could.

Bursting out of the front doors and down the steps with great vigor, she briskly walked with no particular destination in mind. Outwardly, she tried to appear as calm and collected as she could, but inside she raged. _Not only has he left me, he's also hidden my child from me. I told Inspector Brackenreid that I thought I knew him, but did I ever truly know him? The man I loved would never have done this to me._ Taking an indirect route, she did not return to the hotel immediately, instead she briskly walked for blocks, struggling to get her thoughts and feelings under control. She ignored the pointed stares and angry comments of those she passed as she sought release and relief from the cruel emotional toll the last few days had taken upon her.

But as she felt her abdomen twinge in pain, she suddenly paused, remembering too late that she shouldn't be exerting herself too much. Stumbling over to the nearest bench, she sat down and gathered herself along with her thoughts. After several minutes, she managed to calm herself and force herself to think logically, no small feat given the emotional upheaval she'd endured the past few days. Once she mostly regained control of her feelings, she stood up and resumed her walk back to the hotel in a more sedate manner.

Unfortunately, she realized too late that her route took her past Station House 4, and she was fairly certain that she heard Tom Brackenreid calling her name from across the street.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..

As soon as she returned home, she was immediately reminded of William's absence by the pile of his belongings in the corner that awaited his return; yet another symbol that her life was turned upside down. Thankfully, she'd bought very little for the baby, so unlike Roland, there was nothing to dispose of on that front, save for the christening gown she'd picked up a few weeks ago, unable to resist the impulse purchase. She'd chosen to ignore the superstitious voice in her head chiding her. _Don't you know better than to count your chickens before they hatch?_ Sighing and shaking her head to clear her head of such foolish thought, she called the concierge for her own trunks to be brought up as well as an early dinner.

Walking about the suite, she reflected back to her most recent conversation with Tom. She'd told him that crisis can bring clarity, and she supposed that was partly true, but was she truly thinking clearly at the present? _You don't even know your own mind, Julia! Do you truly know everything that is going on? Are you sure you're correct about everything? This is William. He's hurt, but he isn't completely cruel. There's a logical explanation for this, and I'm sure he'll tell me where the baby is once you see him again. If I see him again…surely he hasn't vanished from the face of the Earth, has he? He'll come back eventually, won't he? Oh, William, I thought I knew you. Where are you? How did I get you so wrong?_

Exhaling sharply, she poured herself a drink. She'd been going against the grain for so long, hell-bent on proving her detractors (typically male) wrong, it was almost as though there was something within her that had to do the opposite of what a man told/advised her to do. She simply couldn't help it. Was this why she had walked straight to the travel agent's office after running into Tom on the street and booked a trip to France? Although he hadn't said as much, she suspected that warning her against resigning had nothing to do with her job (which she was already on leave from) but about her marriage. Well, both parties had to agree to a divorce and that would mean that one would have to know where William was…which no one did, including Inspector Thomas Brackenreid of the Toronto Constabulary. Something told her that the man had been waiting for her, eager for news about William himself. He had previously told her that he would find William, and if he was asking her, that meant that William did not want to be found and was long gone.

Not that divorce had seriously crossed her mind anyway, but she supposed it would now. It would now be something else for her to think about on her voyage to the Continent, where she would now go and contemplate her future life as a gay divorcée, sans the divorce. Shortly before the wedding, William had told her told her that he would never grant her a divorce, and at the time she had wholly agreed, but was that a wise choice now? Certainly the church would never grant him one, but did he desire a legal separation? Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought; she didn't want a divorce, she wanted her daughter and William back. But she had to acknowledge that her daughter was lost to her, and there was a good chance that William was as well. She gulped the remainder of her drink and slammed the glass down, deciding to focus upon her packing.

Grunting in frustration at the thought, she opened her wardrobe and pondered her sartorial choices to pack. A row of practical, sensible workday suits greeted her, practical and mostly uninspiring. There was only one outfit she was still enamored with, the snug on her backside green velvet suit she had enjoyed teasing William with once upon a time, not so long ago, but now it reminded her of happier times gone. In disgust, she grabbed it and flung it onto the floor near the wastebasket as she pondered clothes what she would take. Perhaps she would just take a few basics and indulge in some pretty new, ultra fashionable clothes once she arrived in Paris.

 _At least I won't have to deal with William's silent disapproval that I'm spending too much money._

* * *

"…Another mystery for me to solve, eh George?"

With a searching look, George reached over and appropriated the whiskey in front of William, saluted and downed it in one slug then took his leave through the tavern doors without another word. William watched him go, deep in thought, trying not to sigh.

However was he to make sense of the last few days? He was still reeling from the mountain of lies. Finding that man's wife was supposed to help him feel competent, feel validated; instead the man manipulated and deceived him and he fell for it. He frowned at the table. _I have to realize I don't always discern the whole truth…_

…The last few days also pushed William to rethink his actions regarding Julia. George's comments tonight merely widened the cracks in his certainty.

 _Mystery indeed,_ he grunted to himself. Hodge's tavern was warm and dark, a make-shift refuge. With his fingers, he rubbed the table where his shot glass had been, trying to decide if he wanted a replacement drink. If he was going to bear his losses, leave his old life with Julia behind, then why not quiet that annoying inner voice, ease the pain with alcohol?

William shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _I have already become my father by lashing out at Julia in the way my father took everything out on Mother, even without the excuse of intoxication._

Hodge silently appeared at his elbow with another whiskey. William paused, then nodded once. The shot glass was set down and William centered it in front of him as if to gain control over _something._ He stared at the brown liquid until his gaze refused to focus and a sigh escaped him anyway.

George's wisdom was not lost on him. In fact, William had already come to the conclusion that what was tearing him apart inside, and what had torn him and Julia apart, was the fact that diametrically opposed views, like the positive poles of a magnet, inevitably, inexorably repel each other.

That was just the nature of things.

 _My nature._

 _Julia's nature._

Denying that was foolish.

William closed his eyes to steady himself. The burden of despair was pressing him down, making it hard to breathe. He had told George the truth: he did not wish to yield his faith in order to have Julia, nor vice versa, yet he found resolution as elusive as oxygen. He forced himself to inhale, opened his eyes and considered his drink. It sat there offering a simple solution.

 _Why not?_ he asked himself. He nodded his head and reached for the glass, hesitating as his fingers circled the glass rim, before firmly pushing it away. _I know why not._

William placed a few coins on the table, gathered himself up and went out into the night to do what he should have done days ago.

* * *

Having swallowed enough dinner to give her energy, Julia proceeded to walk around the suite, surveying what she wanted to bring with her on the trip. Not for the first time, she questioned her hasty decision to go to Europe. Instead of viewing it as an exciting adventure, instead she dreaded it as an onerous chore, knowing her heart wasn't really in it. She also acknowledged that if she did leave, it was acceptance that their marriage was over, their spectacular love affair had concluded. But even if William returned, it was no guarantee that all would be well between them. What if he wanted a permanent separation? Not just separate bedrooms, but separate addresses and separate lives? Groaning out loud in frustration, she strode over to the drink cart and poured another generous portion as she grappled with her problem.

It was just before seven according to the clock, which meant that it had been two days since she'd seen or even heard from William. He hadn't merely gone on a walk to clear his mind; he was genuinely upset, furious even. If he hadn't even bothered to make some sort of contact with her in two days, it was entirely possible that he had no plans to do so for a very long time or ever again.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she finished her drink and poured another before placing another call to the concierge, asking for a lady's maid to assist her in packing. _Just one of the benefits of money I suppose, one can always pay someone else to handle your unwanted chores. At least she'll accomplish something, as it appears that I'm not going to._

After giving vague directions to the young woman sent up a short while later to pack warm things for her journey to Paris, Julia sat down and pondered what it was that she wanted. She fully knew that at some level, she wasn't sure she would ever return to Toronto. After spending some time on the Continent, she knew she could contact Emily Grace and easily find work in London, starting her life anew from the entanglements here. She didn't know she could bear to live in a city with too many painful memories of happier times; most notably her star-crossed love romance with William Murdoch.

Standing near the window to look out into the night, she forced herself to reflect further. As angry as she was with him for saying what he did, she acknowledged that she still loved. She'd certainly said her own hurtful things in the heat of the moment and she wondered if she could forgive William for his transgression. Exhaling sharply as though she were releasing anger, she pressed her face into the cool glass pane and hoped for clarity.

She may have even prayed.

* * *

St Paul's most recently-installed parish priest rose from his prayers, as William approached down the aisle and genuflected. William waited until he was acknowledged, fidgeting with his hat to hide the fact his hands were shaking. The sanctuary was silent, with nothing moving save the wavering glow of red votive candlelight playing over walls and vaulted ceiling.

"Father?" William's rasp echoed.

The old priest's face wrinkled in a frown, searching for a name. "Mr. Murdoch…William Murdoch is it?" He inserted long, pale hands into his black sleeves. "How may I help you?"

"I…I need confession, Father. I need spiritual counsel…" William faltered. This man was not Father Faire, not Father Clemens, men who knew him well, knew his history and struggles. This priest, Father Timothy, was a replacement for the two which he himself helped remove after exposing the fraudulent 'miracle', an action not necessarily well-received by the Bishop….

"I know it is late…" William nearly excused himself, hanging his head.

"This way," was the no-nonsense invitation.

William followed to the confessional, taking his place in the left hand stall to bless himself and pray. Just being in the compartment on his knees loosened his tight chest a tiny bit. When the divider slid open, he took in a ragged breath to speak.

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been five days since my last confession."

"What have you to tell me?"

His body remembered this, the familiar place, the ritual, the words. The effect slowly worked on him. "Father, I have committed the mortal sin of extreme anger. I struck a co-worker, a constable. I frightened a co-worker by punching a door. I treated a man more harshly than necessary to merely defend myself, and left him unconscious. I over-reacted and assaulted a man in a bar." William's right hand throbbed with those memories as well. "I have spoken in wrath to my wife."

"All in the last five days, my son? How has such evil taken hold in you?"

William had no answer. He plowed on. "I abdicated my responsibilities out of anger and despair…" then he stalled.

William had plenty he was not going to confess to. He had kept silent about Julia's abortion, about Dr. Tash because that was not about his own behavior and it was in the past. He kept silent about Rebecca and Nate. Silent about Constance Gardner… was able to keep silence and not sin by lying, because he was never asked outright by the law so he did not need to lie; besides freeing Miss Gardner was something about which his conscience was clear. All of that was about his job, other people's lives and about the laws of men…

 _Even if I could forget the lies, what Julia did…_

When they married in the Catholic Church, Julia agreed not to interfere with the practice of his faith. William was certain Julia had no idea her actions…not her abortion all those years ago, but her assisting Dr. Rebecca Desmond with an abortion and then William coming to know of it, placed him in his own untenable position.

A firm voice came through the wooden grille, interrupting his wool-gathering. " _Men seeth those things that appear; but the Lord beholdeth the heart._ You cannot hide from God, William. Confession is about accepting responsibility and coming back into God's grace."

William's hands clenched. How can he abide Julia's actions when doing so put his own immortal soul in jeopardy? From somewhere deep inside he found the courage to speak. "Father, I have broken the commandment against complaisance with an evil."

"I see. That is a very serious breach with God. You provided aid and support for this? Turned a blind eye? You cannot escape by making that another's sin-it is fully your own."

William heard the stern disapproval and saw how still the priest had become, and it unnerved him. "No. I only discovered later on."

"So you did not consent and did not have knowledge," Father Timothy finally said. "You have objected to being a party to this evil?"

"No knowledge and yes, they know I will not, cannot be a party. I will unlikely know if it ever happens again and I cannot prevent it from happening again." William closed his eyes. "But I have not publically repudiated them, not…completely broken with them."

The booth was silent again for a long moment; William heard his heart pound in his ears waiting for the priest to speak, bracing for the worst. The answer surprised him.

"St. Augustine teaches, that where there is no consent there can be no sin. _Nullo modo sit peccatum, si non sit voluntarium._ It is a venal sin, then, which can weaken your will to avoid evil."

"Yes, Father. For that I ask forgiveness."

"Forgiveness requires penance. You must be responsible for your own thoughts and your own actions, my son."

William nodded, speaking slowly. "How shall I continue after what I know to be true?" William knew this was the crux of the matter. Having finally said it, he felt relief at handing this over to God's intercessor.

"God desires you to be true to Him." The priest declared. "You are not to judge others. It is _your_ sin which separates _you_ from God. _Your_ transgressions which require _your_ attention. Lean on your faith to guide you; faith will never lead you astray."

"Yes, Father." William absorbed that; he had in truth framed his dilemma as a matter of needing to sacrifice his faith or his love for Julia. Perhaps Father Timothy was right; he was responsible for himself, only himself and only his own conscience. He braced himself to continue:

"Father, I have sinned because in rage I lashed out at my wife because I wanted to hurt her… to punish her… I accused her, to make her feel guilty." William was not aware of his tears. "I did this with full knowledge of the pain I was inflicting. And then…. I left, and have not been back." He was not going to blame Julia for throwing him out, he supposed he deserved it.

The priest rumbled his displeasure. "That is a great wrong. The sacrament of marriage requires compassion for the earthly union as well as the spiritual one."

"Yes, Father" William's voice cracked. "What makes it most grievous is that this was right after she miscarried our daughter."

"Dear God…" From the other side of the grille, Father Timothy's gravelly voice sounded yet more pained. " _'Let them come unto me…'_ I am sorry for the loss of your child. I will pray for her hope of salvation through Christ's mercy." The priest mouthed a blessing and made the sign of the cross, before continuing. "As for your anger, that is indeed grievous. And to leave her violates your marriage vows, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health. Where is your faith in your vows? "

"That too is my sin. To my shame, I am still angry with my wife and that anger is pulling me away from my faith."

"That is another sin, William. Another mortal sin." Father Timothy spared nothing in his sharp tone. "Hardness of heart can lead to impenitence, which is the gravest of transgressions. Forgiveness is to be Christ-like."

"Yes, Father. Nor have I` asked her to forgive me." William fell silent. He had spent so much time thinking about how he could not forgive her that it never came to his attention that he needed to ask for her forgiveness, not really until he had spoken to George an hour ago. There was no sound from the other side of the confessional. For a long while, William was afraid that the priest was reconsidering if William's confessions were all part of the same story.

"The Lord's Prayer is clear: _And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors_." Father Timothy was blunt: "You must forgive her to be forgiven by God. That is anathema to God to close your heart to God's compassion. The sacrament of marriage requires your efforts. Reconcile with your wife, William, make the attempt." He readjusted his cassock. "Now…about your _other_ sins…"

* * *

With her luggage and trunks packed, Julia surveyed the room, ensuring there was nothing else she wanted to take with her when she noted the wedding photograph she had faced down. Picking it up, she stared at it as her heart ached at the memory. Would she ever be able to look back fondly upon her love affair with William Murdoch? Shaking her head, she closed her eyes as though she might be able to erase the bittersweet memory, and set it back down, this time right side up. She would have it packed away with the rest of the belongings and placed into storage with everything else. _Yet another unpleasant chore I've managed to delegate to another._

Unfortunately, there was no one to whom she could delegate this next task. Taking out a sheet of paper, she walked over to the table and sat down to write a letter to William. But what kind of letter would this be? One of apology? But for what, exactly? One telling him of her general whereabouts, or one of farewell? Did she want this to be farewell? What did she want, exactly? Toying with her rings, she looked out the window again and fervently hoped that she might see him when she heard footsteps outside in the hall. Holding her breath, she listened until she heard them continue past her door. Sighing heavily, she picked up her pen and resumed her struggle with saying goodbye.

* * *

William stood outside the Windsor Hotel looking carefully up at the third floor windows. He saw no movement in his and Julia's rooms, no shadows. There seemed to be a single light burning, but the whole effect was of empty stillness. _Much like my own mind._

William reflected on the quandary he had felt within himself over the past few days. The burning pain of loss had not abated, but the impasse between his heart and brain had broken down. After receiving penance from Father Timothy and leaving St. Paul's, he'd walked slowly towards Wilton Street, looped past the Station House and Morgue, and on towards the street where he was standing right now. While moving, he'd imagined what to say to Julia, rehearsed and discarded several iterations. He knew what to say, merely struggled with how to say it, especially not knowing how Julia would receive him if he tried to come home.

He considered that Julia was unlikely to ever offer an apology for her actions and at the moment he neither wanted nor needed one in order to seek reconciliation. He was not going to apologize either because those words alone would not repair the breach; it was deeper than that, the issue was more central than the words they'd spat at each other out of grief, outrage and pain.

 _That will need to come later, God willing._

He looked again at the window and prayed Julia was still there.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

So lost in thought about what to write, Julia was startled to hear a key in the lock and heard the door creak open. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized who it must be.

William's first sight upon entering the foyer was their wedding picture. He turned to the living room and saw her. "Hello."

"Hello, William."

William looked at his wife in the low light then counted the trunks and luggage as he took four steps in. His heart fell. "You're leaving," he said dumbly. He'd half expected to find a letter from her, or to be greeted at the door with her anger. Seeing her there, looking small and fragile was enough to unman him. "I don't know quite what to say. But if you want to leave, that's certainly your right."

"You don't need to tell me that." _Is this all you're going to say, William?_ She pushed down her disappointment.

 _No, but I want you to know that I believe we need to choose each other, freely._ "I…I was hurt." He shook his head and stammered, forgetting he was not going to defend, not going to trade pain for pain.

"We were both _hurt_. But what I did was inexcusable, in your eyes at least. It's possible we'll never find common ground." _Have I really done the inexcusable? Do you now look upon me and see someone who disgusts you?_

He answered unhesitatingly. "I know…but it doesn't matter." Every cell in his body was aligned in this belief and was at peace; _He_ was at peace. William felt strength return to him, certainty take up a home again in his chest. "We are not the same, Julia. We've been different every day of our marriage. But I count every single one of those days as the happiest in my life."

"And that's enough?" _Please, William, please speak your mind freely for once._

"I think so," he answered simply, with his whole heart. _Oh, Julia, if only we can accept each other the way we are._

"Are you certain?" She had to give him an out, she didn't want him to be with her out of a sense of duty. She didn't want anyone's pity.

He walked closer towards her. "If we never have a child, it doesn't matter. What matters is that we're together." His heart pounded, his mouth was dry. How could he tell her he'd give up his job, his home, his pride and his future to be with her? That he was willing to reconcile her beliefs and principles with his without needing one to overcome the other? That they will inevitably fight and disagree for their whole lives …and that was all right with him?

All he could utter was the sincere truth: "Your love means more to me than… _everything_."

"William…?" _Oh God, he still loves me,_ she thought as she stood up.

 _Tell her what you want!_ He yelled at himself. _Speak now._ "Please don't go." His eyes connected with hers, openly begging.

"I won't. I'll tear the ticket up."

She came to him, so close he could smell her sandalwood scent. William had another moment of inspiration. "No," he said.

"No?"

 _It did not matter where we end up, didn't I promise that one time before?_ "Let's buy another one…"

"Oh…"

As she stood in his embrace, she realized that he was right. The only thing that mattered was that they were together. Clutching him to her even tighter, she noticed that her neck was damp and that he was crying. Rather than be strong, she sobbed in return, as they wordlessly stumbled towards the couch, never once letting go of one another as they collapsed in a heap. Several minutes passed in silence when she softly chuckled.

"William, you've never once asked where we're going. Aren't you the least bit curious?" Julia asked, pulling back to study his face.

Smiling, he quietly chuckled. "I told you all that matters is that we're together, Julia. The rest is just detail," he replied. "But since we're on the topic perhaps you could enlighten me?"

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.**

William helped Julia out of the carriage and asked the driver to wait. He was in his best black suit and wool topper. She was in a long, dark blue dress and coat with her hair loose. They might have been any other handsome couple of lovers out for a stroll in the clear air. The broad green lawn before them was sun-dappled and glowing, curving a down gentle slope. He reached back into the carriage box and pulled out a shovel and a tiny burlap-wrapped fir tree. She carried a small canvas bag. They walked slowly, silently, arm in arm to the very back edge of the parcel where the soil was rocky and fallow and the trees were allowed to be wild.

Julia chose the spot and William put his shovel in to dig. The little tree required hardly any labour to open a space to plant it. Once he was done, he rose to stand next to his wife.

"It's time."

"Yes, it is." she said.

They held each other for a moment, and then Julia surrendered her bag to him. William knelt again to remove the contents and spread the scant wisp of ashes in the hole, then replaced the dirt, patting it down with his hands. Tears collected in his eyes as he performed the sign of the cross and prayed. He stood to hold her.

"The sexton promised me this area will never be disturbed." His voice caught. "We will always know she is at rest."

Julia nodded, leaning into his arms. "Goodbye, little one," she whispered. William said nothing but pulled her tighter in response.

As she looked at his face and saw the tears, she came undone again. "I'm so sorry, William," she rasped.

"Shhh…." He said nothing else, but gathered her fully into his arms and buried his face into her neck where they stood for a few moments.

Feeling joy for having William back by her side was so healing for her pain and loss. She could tell it was the same for him. Now was the time for _this_ tenderness….Everything else would have to wait.

"The train to Halifax is waiting, William. We should go."

Together, they walked hand in hand towards the carriage.


	3. Calm Before the Storm

For a short while, Julia and William were actually able to forgo mourning as they boarded the _RMS Lucania_ , each taking the glass of champagne offered to them by a young footman. Though Julia was not in a celebratory mood per se, she was buoyed by the fact that William had come back to her, and that they were going to make repairs to what had been damaged. For his part, William took his customary small sips, not really drinking while appearing to be imbibing.

But to say that William was stunned as they walked into the first class lounge was an understatement. She giggled as she saw his face taking it all in. It was spectacular, with the leafy trees and plants creating a verdant atmosphere, a nice counterbalance to the heavy oak paneled walls. Rich velvet curtains complimented the fine, richly upholstered furnishings, providing a calm, inviting, yet exclusive atmosphere. William had traveled across the Atlantic before, however the sparse, small, utilitarian third class public rooms were nothing like this.

Feeling Julia tug on his arm to move him forward, he moved past the entrance to the dining saloon, which somehow laid the lounge to shame if such a thing were possible. Here a tall ceiling eventually gave way to a large skylight that allowed the pale winter sun to drift down and created an atrium-like effect, and one could easily forget that one had boarded a boat at all.

Silently, he stood and swiveled his head around before looking at her, one eyebrow raised, utterly amazed. Even Julia admitted it really was rather impressive.

"What were you expecting, William? I told you I was treating you to first class!" she laughed, tugging on his arm to continue to follow their steward who was showing them to their stateroom.

Once settled in the suite however, all frivolity was soon forgotten when grief and exhaustion from their ordeal asserted itself. After tipping the porter, William beckoned her closer.

"Have you given any thought as to where we'll take tonight's meal?" she asked, stepping into his arms. A part of her wanted to amaze William with the culinary delights the sumptuous first class dining saloon, but she wasn't particularly up to it tonight.

"As you wish," he offered, holding her tighter.

"Perhaps we you would be amenable to eating in our suite this evening? searching his face for disappointment. She found none.

His mouth formed a half smile as he loosened his arms a little as he looked at her. "I don't feel the need for other company, and besides…" he gestured with his eyes to their pile of trunks, "I don't want to have to dress for supper."

Looking upon him, here, standing in her suite with her, agreeing to go to Europe with her, made her heart sing. Words could not express how wonderful this made her feel, yet she tried her best. "Thank you for accompanying me, William. I didn't allow myself to even dream that you might come back and let alone undertake this voyage with me, I…" she broke off, overwhelmed.

"Of course, Julia," he fumbled, equally unsure of what to say.

They merely held one another until a steward knocked at the door to unpack their things.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

William rolled over on his back in the ship's berth, careful not to disturb his wife, stretching a little in the bed and feeling a light sway from the Atlantic Ocean's waves. The past three days and three nights, from Halifax to the middle of the ocean _en route_ to London, the two of them has spent in quiet luxury on relatively calm seas, curled up in this first class stateroom. After their excruciating and exhausting week, it seemed to suit them both, allowing for simple rest and enough space for grieving. Little by little the barriers between them were thinning.

Beside him, Julia stirred, so he drew the sheet up over her naked shoulder and shifted her head to pillow in the crook of his arm. William took a second to carefully stroke her skin and kiss the top of her head, enjoying her softness against him. Last night she'd asked for them to disregard nightclothes and he'd been surprised; they had not been intimate in weeks and he assumed she was not physically healed yet for relations, and probably not inclined. Instead, it was a different intimacy she sought in their skin to skin embrace. Julia had wanted to be held and since he still needed to reassure himself she was near, that was perfectly fine with him.

This was the first morning he had any interest at all in venturing topside or to the salon, and since it was Sunday he was going to go to confession and attend the Mass in the _Lucania's_ steerage. It was his first opportunity to formally thank God for another chance with Julia and be received back into his faith with communion. He fished his watch from the side table to see how much time he had, then slowly and gently disentangled himself from her to wash and dress.

"Julia? I'm off to church." As hard as it was to be parted from her, there was no other reason on the earth he'd leave her side. "I'll be back in time for breakfast." William saw her eyes open and thought he heard her murmur acknowledgement, but he left a note just in case. With any luck he'd be back before she even knew he was gone.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

No longer asleep, not yet fully awake, Julia reached across their bed and felt for William, searching for his warmth, but finding cool bed linens instead. Bolting upright in panic, for a brief moment she imagined she was back in Toronto at the start of her worst nightmare. Quickly enough, she found a short note on his pillow saying he was attending religious services and would return shortly. Nodding in understanding, her heart slowed and her breathing normalized, she refolded the note as she got out of bed. It was Sunday after all.

Reaching for her quilted wrapper and putting it on, she studied her reflection in the carved and gilded mirror. Making a face, she pulled the garment tighter as though it would hide the ugly truth of the past week. She'd certainly looked better, but it had also been only a week since she had miscarried and she'd gone through quite the emotional upheaval. Thankfully, the bleeding had subsided and she was starting to feel more like herself once again.

Given that it had already been three days in which she and William had been sequestered away, able, finally, to grieve together, to reconnect, Julia supposed it was time to rejoin the land of the living and wondered if he might accompany her on a walk around the deck. Perhaps she'd even let the staff know that they would dine in the saloon tonight, braving the company of others. She looked up when she heard the cabin door open, admitting William.

"Good morning, Julia." He set his hat down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "How are you feeling?" He saw the bruised-looking skin under her eyes was fading and that her colour was returning, for which he was very glad. "I am hungry this morning, are you? Shall I order breakfast?" he inquired, giving her an elegant menu for reference.

Julia nodded, relieved that he was back. "I'm better now that you're here," she replied with a smile, tugging at his tie. "As for your suggestion, I think I'd like that very much. Let's order breakfast and then help me dress will you? After we eat, I'd like to stretch my legs and take a nice stroll if you don't mind."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Considering that it was late November in the North Atlantic, the weather was understandably brisk. Four bracing trips around the upper deck later, the pair took shelter in the ship's library which held velvet club chairs and a cheery hearth. This was their first exploration of the ship and her amenities, even though they were not yet ready to become part of the community of passengers. The library was well-stocked and quietly populated by a couple of elderly ladies reading books, and a collection of gentlemen perusing the ship's newspaper, _The RMS Lucania Daily_ , which offered the current headlines of the world via wireless telegraphy as well as expected sea conditions and weather forecast, followed by events aboard ship, and advertisements for the various amusements offered.

William's interest was piqued by the broadsheet, knowing its famous history tied to Marconi's wireless experimentations of 1903, and promised himself a trip to the communications room if he had an opportunity. _But first things first..._

William helped Julia divest herself of her coat and wrap, then pulled two chairs near the fire before casting an eye to the ship's news, which gave their general location in latitude and longitude and confirmed the meteorological conditions, which as William could attest to, was clear, and cold. Their journey had been peaceful so far, and no rough seas. He even joked as much as they settled in.

"At least this voyage seems to be a peaceful one so far. Let's hope it's nothing like the last time we were on a ship together," he quipped.

Hitting him on the shoulder playfully, she agreed. "It's already better, William. This time we're sharing a cabin," she noted with a raised eyebrow.

Julia made herself comfortable with the most recent edition of _The Ladies Home Journal_ , enjoying the banality of perusing the upcoming fashions for Spring/Summer 1906. Looking at the frothy designs in light fabrics, Julia couldn't help shiver as she was still cold from earlier despite sitting near the fire. Catching the footman's attention, she ordered two hot chocolates before mindlessly flipping through the magazine again.

However, it wasn't long before she noticed that William wasn't reading, but absently playing with a pair of metal rectangles on the side table next to him, his gaze fixed on the newest passengers who entered the Library: a young girl in pinafore and braids, accompanied by her parents.

She winced in sadness. This was one of the reasons she had been avoiding mixing with other passengers, and the main reason she'd been pleased to book last minute passage in a luxury suite, since there were likely to be fewer children in first class.

Julia regarded her husband studiously. So lost in thought was he, William failed to notice that she was now studying his actions intently, suspecting she knew what he was thinking. Leaning in, she put her hand on his, her words gentle. "You think that could have been us, don't you?"

William heard her as if from a long distance before coming to himself and finding her eyes. "I'm sorry, Julia." He flushed and nodded. "I suppose I will have those thoughts, occasionally, for a while...I...I don't mean to…"

"Myself as well, William...it is perfectly natural," she nodded back, reassuring him. Julia held his gaze, worried over her husband's sad expression; they had been over this already, nevertheless she knew this was still going to be hard. She certainly felt it herself.

William nodded again, still pushing what Julia now recognized as magnets around on the table's gleaming surface. She saw when the magnetic poles were identical, they pushed away from one another, yet when one was flipped, the two magnets were now powerfully attracted, closing the distance between them as if by their own volition. William finally noticed her interest, so he picked up the magnets to pocket them, allowing them to lock together.

Julia stopped him, staring at the metal pieces in his hand. She took his palm in hers, opening it flat, pointing to the joined magnets. "Those represent us, don't they William?" she asked. "We're opposites, yet we can't help being attracted to one another," she found herself blurting without thinking...so sudden was her understanding.

William hesitated, feeling uncomfortably exposed. _How did she know that?_ The attraction, certainly on his part, was undeniable, yet it was the inherent _opposing_ forces which encompassed the unspoken problems in their relationship; problems he was loathe to open up especially now when things were so tender between them.

He tried a disarming smile. "Julia, your insights are always remarkable." He motioned gratefully to the server, clearing a spot on the table for two elegant china mugs. "Our chocolate is here." The cocoa was hot and sweet, giving him an excuse not to talk.

Julia took her cup, trying to decide if William was being obtuse, clever or cowardly. She shook her head. _Perhaps he is trying to be sensitive, but it is time_...

"William...we need to talk about us. The future of our marriage. Because we have a future, do we not? One to protect?"

William heard the plea in her voice and it hit him deeply. A future with her was all he ever hoped for. Keeping his voice steady, he answered slowly: "I am here, am I not? With you."

"Yes. But we cannot continue having our differences fester. We mustn't continue keeping secrets anymore, none that can harm us. We have to face this together, and we cannot do that unless we know exactly what we are facing," she implored, as she saw him squirm.

She wasn't sure how to interpret that exactly; she knew he was nervous because he fumbled the magnets, dropping them to the floor. He quickly bent down to retrieve them, and Julia wondered if the action wasn't deliberate.

William knew he had to handle this conversation better than the last time Julia wanted to 'talk'; his memory of that terrible argument and its precipitants remained gut-churning. For a brief moment he wondered if talking in public would put some necessary restraint on their emotions, then dismissed that as unwieldy and unwise. _Besides,_ he knew, _there was not much which ever restrained Julia._ This time he felt he was in better control of himself…. _And she is acknowledging there_ were _problematic secrets._ If _she_ is strong enough for this, he reasoned, then he'd _have_ to be.

"Very well, however is this the place you wish to have a discussion? I would suggest returning to our stateroom first," William replied, looking at her squarely in the eyes.

Julia met his eyes in return, taken a little aback with his challenge. "Agreed, but I would like for some wine to be sent to our suite." _Even though I would prefer a whiskey..._

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The stateroom's heavy oak door closed behind William with a solid, yet quiet thud. He surveyed the polished mahogany wood panelled walls, thick draperies and carpets, as grand as any premiere hotel anywhere in the world. He was counting on a combination of the sound dampening properties of the furnishings and discretion from the well-bred to give some semblance of privacy to himself and Julia, _for completely different reasons than usual..._

 _God knows we'll need it._

He pushed the beverage cart closer to where she sat, then took a chair next to her to pour a water for himself. One benefit of a first class steamship was that in the middle of the ocean the "blue laws" prohibiting alcohol on Sundays did not apply (if the gratuity was generous enough.) No doubt his wife was accustomed to tipping well.

Julia decanted her own wine and sipped appreciatively, nibbling on the accompaniment of miniature croissants and a jam which she declared paired perfectly with her claret.

Now that they were alone, William observed Julia was less eager to talk about anything of substance. To him, she looked so tired and fragile, unlike her typical self, therefore if she thought the better of embarking on such a difficult discussion, he was just as happy to go along with it. "Julia, we can put this off. We are together; perhaps that is enough for now." He pulled up one corner of his mouth in a half smile and reached for her hand.

Julia felt his warm touch. "No, William. Being together is the only place from which we can approach this crisis in our marriage. I do believe crisis brings clarity, and I know that we can only truly stay together if we clear the air."

"Julia, I told you we do not have to be the same, to think the same way…" William made sure he caught her eyes as a way to convey his sincerity.

"You say that now, however your actions betrayed you. You rejected me William! You walked out on me, and disappeared for two days. As far as I knew you'd left the city just so you would not have to be anywhere near me..." The suddenness of her comment shocked both of them.

William's eyebrows shot up and he felt bewildered. " _Walked_ out? You _threw_ me out!"

"I said if that was how you really felt, then you should leave…."

"You cut off all discussion…"

" _I_ cut off all discussion? You left, meaning you agreed! Where were you?"

"I left because _you_ told me to get out!" He was trying to be reasonable, at the same time he was appalled at how differently they each interpreted their interaction, as apparently as difficult to reconcile as two incompatible witnesses statement about the same crime. "When I tried to see you again you seemed quite ready to disappear across the ocean to be rid of me..."

"Because I thought my husband had abandoned me! You were gone for days, William. Days, not hours! Without a trace! Not even the Inspector nor George knew where you were. What was I supposed to do? For all I knew you were never coming back, and you'd run off to the Yukon again. I couldn't bear to wait around for a man who might never have returned, being subject to Tom's pity as the scorned wife. Where were you, William?" she shot back.

He was disconcerted by her statement. _First of all: the Inspector had been involved?_ Just how much did he know? His cheeks burned in shame at the thought of his superior being privy to the horrible things he'd said to his wife. _Secondly: I abandoned_ _her_ _?_ Nodding, he accepted her argument and absorbed her question, debating how much was relevant at the moment.

"Fair enough. My words warranted you asking me to leave, I'll grant you that. I wasn't on the run from you the entire time….believe it or not, I went to drown my sorrows in a bar and I met a man who was searching for his lost wife," he began before Julia interrupted.

"William, you're prevaricating," Julia snapped.

Sitting up taller, he continued, intent on finishing. "Julia, I...I hated myself and was at a such a loss... I needed something to do, something to occupy my mind, so I assisted him and our search took us out of town. Let's just say that like you, his wife had valid reason for not wanting him around and I should have been more aware of certain aspects of his behavior. But, that is a story for another time," he replied, holding up his hand hoping Julia would not snap at him again.

"That was your best idea at the moment? You thought to help someone else, but _not_ your wife?" Her outrage was unmistakable.

William flinched, rubbing his forehead. "I was fairly certain you would not have me back, did not want me back, no matter how much I might have wished it." He exhaled, dropping his shoulders and holding his hands out. "I did however, use that time to reflect upon the impasse and what had happened between us," he stated calmly, doing his best to not let his temper get the best of him again.

Setting her drink down, she nodded, somewhat placated. "All right, I suppose it was necessary for you to mull things over. Neither one of us were in control of our emotions at the time."

Julia paused. _Dare we go further?_ She traced a circle in a spilled drop of wine on the cart.

She decided to risk it, to expose her central fear. "After you learned the truth about Rebecca and Nate, you were so angry with me even before we got home. Why? You had been so silent all the way back to our rooms so I knew you were already upset." Julia almost balked, before pushing on. "Was it because I miscarried?" she whispered.

William responded instantly. "No! _God, no_ ; most assuredly not. That was not what I was so disturbed about." _Doesn't she recall how I tried to console her?_

She wanted to believe him, but taking into account what had transpired that awful day it was difficult. "Then why?"

"I believed..." he said this carefully so as not to make an accusation. "At the time I believed you interfered with my case, deliberately kept the truth from me. I interpreted your behaviour as evidence of a guilty conscience…." He held his breath, then exhaled. "I came to believe you lied to me, were deliberately obstructing justice with a cover-up and sending me blindly scrambling ..." The lies and the breach of trust still pained him. "I was doing my best to help the Desmonds, yet none of you was willing to trust me…"

Julia shook her head. "It's not as you think, William. Rebecca called me to speak about the situation of a patient of hers. She asked what she should do, and it's as I said: I told her to follow her conscience and directed her to appropriate medical resources when she asked about them. I did not know who the patient was, did not know Nate's involvement, nor did I even know of her final decision. I only put it together moments before you did. In fact, I had just arrived in the cells to talk with Rebecca and confirm my suspicions when you showed up."

"You knew I could not condone your actions, Julia. You _knew_ that…" William tried to say this matter-of-factly, unable to keep the strain out of his voice.

"Yes...I knew how you would feel, so I had very little direct involvement in the matter. William, I didn't want any secrets between us."

William's composure broke. _Did she truly not understand the implications of what she had done?_ "You decided to keep a secret nevertheless, and despite knowing my reaction, you did it anyway."

"I am sorry if I hurt your feelings."

He took another breath to steady himself. _If_ _she hurt my feelings?_

William reviewed the pieces of the puzzle as he had fitted them together: _Julia getting out of her sick bed against his better judgement, as if the miscarriage was unimportant. Julia's silence when he tried to comfort her, reach out to her. Julia not trusting him enough to confide in him._

 _Julia assuming he'd arrest Rebecca Desmond. Julia's own angry defensiveness..._

"This issue is a great deal more than how I would _feel_ about it. Julia, you asked me why I was angry. Can you appreciate at all what I believed to be true? Why I was so upset about the events as I understood them?"

He looked at her, then shook his head. _She wanted the truth.._."At the time I believed you put me in a position of being deceived and blindsided by the person I trusted more than anyone, and at odds with both the Constabulary and the Church."

Julia stood abruptly. " _Your_ _job_ _! Your_ _faith_ _!_ I did not intentionally withhold information William, I did not know what I knew. I didn't know the relevance until it was too late… I've already told you this!" She felt her blood pound. This conversation was not going the way she supposed it would. She strode purposefully to the door.

"I know that now," William called behind her, hoping to stop her. "Don't do this, not again."

"I need some air, the judgement in here is really quite oppressive."

"Julia..!"

William closed his eyes as Julia slammed the door. _You utter fool!_ he railed at himself. _What made you think the truth alone was going to suffice?_ The closeness of the last three days, the fondness and warmth between them was broken again, and he groaned loudly in frustration. He had been trying to only answer the question she asked, not drift into the even more thorny issue of her statements about abortion and his visceral reactions to them. He had not yet been able to apologize for that and here he was causing her additional pain.

 _Dear Lord, how did I get here again?_


	4. Approaching Rough Waters

Julia sailed down the hallway and soon approached the exit from the first class cabins and into a cross-corridor, leaving her two options: either go outside for a stroll or make her way to the first class lounge. As the weather necessitated her coat, hat, and gloves (all of which were in the cabin with William) she made her way instead to a quiet corner of the lounge, taking a seat in a comfortable chair in plush, blue velvet, well-placed behind leafy plants. It was ideal for watching people while remaining relatively unobserved. Summoning a footman, she ordered a double whiskey, neat, and surveyed the room. It was largely quiet and empty, save for small groups of ladies enjoying afternoon tea. It came to her attention that they'd argued through lunch and her appetite, which hadn't been much of late, now reminded her she'd missed a meal. Deciding against dining in the suite again for a fourth consecutive night, she informed the footman of her plans to have supper in the dining saloon that evening when he returned with her drink. Nodding, he promised to notify the dining staff of her decision and reserve a table for seven-thirty.

Sipping her drink, she replayed their discussion-turned-argument in her mind. William had been reluctant to tell her the truth, and now she knew why: she didn't like the answer. Remembering back to their first argument and separation all those years ago, she grimaced. After all the hurt and misery that secrets had caused them before, they'd promised not to keep them from one another again, but this was not her secret alone. To have informed William of this exchange would have endangered Rebecca, something she didn't want to do.

 _Did he know that? Can I make him understand that?_

Sighing, she stood up, taking her drink and wandered the room, passing by the entrance to the gentleman's smoking room. Stepping to the side of the entrance where a footman would normally stand, she observed the men in the richly appointed space, glancing upon the activity within. She couldn't help staring into the room, thinking about the time she had dressed as a man and had fooled even William. _Oh, that I could do that again!_ The freedom of enjoying her drink and cigar _sans_ corset was a happy one. Instead, she chose to stand close enough to see and hear what was going on, but not close enough to be detected. She stood transfixed at the goings on until she felt rather than hear a servant approach with a polite cough.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Madam?" asked a young woman, hovering nervously behind her.

"Nothing at all, I just wish to observe how the other sex lives is all," Julia answered. "Is that permitted?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Perhaps I shall stay, even if it is not!"

"Very good, ma'am," the servant gave the formal, expected reply. Then Julia winked at her, causing a spark to erupt in the girl's eye. "I quite understand, it is rather fascinating if I do say so myself," the young woman replied with a curtsy before departing as quickly as she appeared.

Standing there, Julia watched the men, most of them undoubtedly possessing excellent reputations in their home communities. Their behavior, on the other hand, was not particularly genteel whilst they smoked their Cuban cigars and drank the finest single malt.

"The key in maintaining a mistress is to make sure that your wife never know of her existence. No good will ever come of it, no matter how enlightened and accepting of the arrangement she may appear. Of course, then you must keep your paramour happy so that she never approaches your wife, as happened with one poor bastard I know. She approached his wife and told her all about them, hoping that he'd leave the wife and marry her, of all things!"

The men guffawed. "So actually, my counsel is to not have a mistress at all. Stick with prostitutes or better yet, a married woman with an old husband who can't take proper care of her," one large, ruddy faced man advised, snorting with laughter.

"Bonus points if you cuckold the bugger," another chimed in laughing so hard he spilled his scotch.

"Not that either of you would know, paying for it is the only way you two could ever get it," a third man drolly opined with a sneer.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, she sipped her drink, and left the room, deciding she didn't care if they heard or saw her exit. _Gentlemen, my ass!_

Walking back to the main room, she sipped her drink, ignoring the hushed female whispers that were undoubtedly discussing her most unladylike of beverage choices. _Well if they knew what their men were talking about in the smoking room, they might not be so smug!_ Stopping to look outside from a large window, she stared at tall whitecaps disrupting the surface of the ocean, while mulling her present situation.

She'd told Tom that she had had a life before William and that she would have one again. That was true: she'd had a full life before William, and while she supposed she could continue on without him, she knew she would much rather have a life _with_ him, and that meant all of him, including his religion. Groaning, she sipped her drink as she grappled with the difficult thought.

For better or for worse, William's faith came with a very strong set of beliefs from which he couldn't be easily shaken, if at all. If she were honest, the few times he had changed his mind or evolved his thinking, she was often partly responsible for the shift. _But other principles are steadfast, including what we have yet to discuss: abortion._ Sighing, she leaned against the window, thankful for the cold glass to cool her anger.

Setting her drink down on a table, she resolutely returned to their room to apologize to William, to tell him she understood, that in loving him, she would accept all of him.

 _But I'll be damned if I allow him to accuse me of obstructing his case or deceiving him when I did no such thing._

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Returning to their suite and closing the door behind her, she approached William, who sat in a wingback chair holding his rosary. He looked up; no words were spoken.

In Julia's absence, William had been trying to clear his mind by reviewing their conversation, applying his considerable problem solving skills to locate a way out of the knot he'd gotten himself into. When that failed, he bent to his devotions.

He was grateful the crashing around in his head was stilled by quiet meditation with the olive-wood beads in his hands; then, as if in answer to those prayers, Julia had reappeared right after his last "Amen." While William did not believe in coincidences, he was very relieved, having already decided _patience_ was the better part of valour. Unfortunately he still did not know what to say, so he merely tried to meet her gaze with his own and remember to breathe.

Julia looked at his face: a study in caution with hooded eyes. She didn't know what she could say to mend this most recent break between them, only that it was something she wanted. Closing her eyes, she exhaled sharply, her arms reaching behind her, and her fingers quickly began unbuttoning her blouse before she even knew what she was doing. One by one, she removed each piece of clothing and dropped it to the floor, all while silently standing in front of him. Once she realized that her nudity was meant to symbolize no barriers between them, she worried that he might interpret it as an interest in resuming relations with him, something she wasn't quite ready for.

Still…she was committed, so she continued until she stood before him, completely nude. She definitely had his attention, but his face was inscrutable. She wasn't sure what he currently thought.

William, who had been quietly observing his wife, was unsure what was going on. She looked so vulnerable standing there it pulled him out of the chair and over to her without thinking, enveloping her in an embrace. It was so good to have her close…

Feeling at peace for a few brief moments, Julia exalted at being in his arms until she felt his desire pressing into her abdomen. She froze in fear.

Julia's recoil took all of William's effort not to react to. He only loosened his arms a bit, not completely letting go. He saw her eyes were wide and frightened, making him feel even more terrible than he already had been while waiting alone in their rooms.

 _What now?_ "It is alright," he told her, guessing what the problem was. He kept one arm around her and with his other hand reached over the back of a chair to fetch a soft blanket to drape over her shoulders. "I always want you, that's obvious I suppose…" he managed a smile and a chuckle. "Perhaps a different sort of intercourse is what you intended at the moment?"

"I'm sorry, William, it's that it's only been a week, and…"

"Shhh, don't apologize. I believe this symbolizes openness, correct?" he asked, gesturing at her state of undress.

"Yes, I don't want there to be anything between us," she agreed.

William understood she meant it literally _and_ figuratively. _Only Julia…._

"Nor do I." William guided her to their bed and tucked her in, then quickly stripped down to nothing himself, crawling in next to her. He held her until she relaxed fractionally, even as he felt the ship undulating more; the _Lucania,_ he knew, was headed into a storm.

He also knew that in a storm the best thing to do is just hold on…

"Julia, I am sorry I misinterpreted some of the events which transpired after Nate Desmond barged into our lives. I want you to know that I _do_ believe that you did not intentionally obstruct my case right from the beginning."

"I didn't obstruct it at all!" Julia snapped automatically, pulling away. She had wanted to be apologetic, so she slowed herself down and settled back against him. He didn't have all the facts, and he felt as though facts had been withheld from him. That would have been a difficult thing for him to deal with at any time, let alone that one. "To obstruct is to knowingly withhold information, to deceive you. I did no such thing! I only went to the cells to speak with Rebecca to confirm my suspicions, at which time I would have advised her to come clean with you," she told him.

He sighed. "It is not the first time I have read evidence incorrectly, or was wrong in my conclusions." William hoped that was enough of an opening to start their conversation. "Why did they lead me on a wild goose chase? "

"Because they were afraid how the pious and perfect William Murdoch would act!"

William frowned at the jab. "All I was trying to do was help. Julia….Nate had no defense. A coloured man killing a white man..? He'd have hanged because of a lie! "

"They knew they broke the law, William. They were also afraid that you might view her more harshly because she was not only a woman, but a _coloured_ woman. You yourself pointed out the difficulty race adds in the mind of jurors.…"

"What did _you_ think I would do? Have you forgotten that I showed mercy to Isaac Tash all those years ago? Did you think that I wouldn't do the same for Rebecca?" William countered. He was hurt at the idea he'd bend to prejudice.

"William! Don't be dense," she shook her head and looked at him seriously. "They were covering up a crime, a _couple_ of crimes. You are well aware abortion can carry the death penalty for the woman _and_ her doctor. They all had to protect each other. Nate didn't even tell Rebecca he was in trouble because he was protecting her. You of all people should understand that!" She felt him shift. "There was a time when you would have done the same, William. Now…I don't know anymore."

Exhaling, he sat up, leaning against the headboard, cringing a bit from the criticism in her words. This was painful, and something he would rather avoid; yet perhaps Julia had a point. Rubbing his face, he contemplated how he would steer the conversation back to less troubled waters. "Julia, believe it or not, I _do_ understand having a secret that isn't entirely one's own."

"You mean about me, or Isaac?"

"Yes...that is true. But, also no. I also hold a secret, even from you, because I'm not the only party. To tell you is to expose another, someone to whom I owe a great debt of loyalty...so yes, perhaps I need to consider how that might have affected the way you behaved in regards to Rebecca. And no, I will not tell you because it is not only my secret to tell."

"I see." Julia expressed her surprise. "You are a man who values the law, the truth; I may have to look upon you differently." She paused, needing to let him know she appreciated how difficult it was for him. "I want you to know I do understand how upset you must have been."

William held her closer. "That is no excuse, Julia. I made assumptions, erroneous ones it turned out, and even though I _was_ deceived, even if for understandable reasons hidden from me at the time, I became very angry and was prepared to take it out on you…"

Quietly picking at a thread, Julia sighed. "You were not yourself, neither was I. We're still not ourselves, William," she observed.

"I know… we _will_ be, Julia. I want to be," he quietly replied. "Perhaps that's enough for today?" he wondered.

Nodding her head that perhaps it was time to return to healing for now, she agreed. "Yes, and to ensure that we can't fight anymore about this topic for the time being, I have informed the stewards that we'll be dining in the saloon tonight. It's time we resume normality, in some part," she informed him. "I hope you don't mind," she stated

"I suppose that means that we'll have to dress for dinner then. My evening clothes have seen better days, I'm afraid," William joked. Julia had not been all that gentle when she had packed away his belongings. "People may talk," he raised an eyebrow at her and was rewarded by her smile.

"Well we can buy you a new wardrobe in Paris! Won't you be quite the dashing figure once we return to Toronto," she offered, tracing his pectoral with her forefinger before dropping her hand and sighing. _Is this why we're having difficulty solving our dispute? A lack of physical relations?_

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

If William thought the lounge and their cabin had been nice, he was stunned by the opulence of the first class dining saloon. Though the ship would not go to Italy, it was undoubtedly very Italian in style, with Ionic pillars supporting a high coffered ceiling of white and gold. The walls were a beautiful mahogany with ivory inlay and the tables were laden with richly appointed table settings.

"Julia, this is amazing!. This ceiling must be 10 feet high! It's astounding that they were able to incorporate more features like this on a ship," he exclaimed. "The engineering for that atrium alone…."

Julia giggled in response while they stood for the maitre d' to show them to their seats. "Don't gawk, William!" she gently chided. As she realized that they were instead being led to the Captain's Table, her smile faded and her jaw dropped in surprise.

"Detective Murdoch, when the Captain became informed that you'd be joining us this evening, he insisted that you dine with him," the slight man explained in his clipped accent.

William looked at her nervously, not sure what to make of the development. Julia looked at him with a smile. "My goodness, what an honour. Even if the ship does not have a full complement of six hundred first class passengers, it seems the great William Murdoch's reputation precedes him," she teased.

"Julia, I don't care how untoward it seems or whether it's done or not, I insist on sitting next to you," he whispered as they arrived at the table.

Unfortunately, it was not possible for Julia to sit next to William; instead she was seated diagonally across from him. It was not long before the first course, oysters on the half shell were served.

Noting how he subtly looked around at the others before following their actions, Julia assumed that William had never tried such an hors d'oeuvres before and had not particularly enjoyed it based upon the look on his face. _Something tells me he won't be ordering it again…_ The soup, _potage St. Germain_ or pea soup seems to have been more to his liking, but the braised ox tongue did not go down well with either of them. Julia was not surprised to see him order the Sirloin Steak while she opted for the Spring Chicken.

Though she wasn't seated next to William, Julia found the man sitting or her right pleasant enough and, to her relief, not anyone she recognized from her earlier eavesdropping on the smoking room. A banker from Philadelphia, Julia enjoyed his amazement that she was a physician and delighted in his discomfiture. _He's fortunate I didn't tell him that I'm a pathologist and that I cut up dead bodies all day!_

While she couldn't be sure, she thought he might have been fishing around for a possible paramour later that evening. Julia politely pretended to not pick up on his suggestion, and eventually he honed his attentions on the woman across from him.

Looking across at William to see if he had caught any of her dinner companion's... _intentions..._ , she saw that her husband had been oblivious, deep in conversation with the woman beside her. Mrs. Philathia Dorscheimer spoke about her experience of stargazing on the fan deck these past three nights, followed by her complaint at the foul weather the ship was headed into which promised to spoil the fun. While no great beauty, Mrs. Dorscheimer was a moderately attractive woman in her late twenties and possessed of a keen mind, expert at probing for personal connections. The woman rhapsodized about constellations and the telescopes used for viewing them, whilst William offered corrections to the woman's inaccurate depiction of how the lenses worked.

In Julia's estimation the woman knew _exactly_ how the devices operated. Mrs. Dorscheimer deftly drew out her usually reticent husband rather neatly. To be perfectly honest, Julia was impressed at the display of feminine social skills she herself never really possessed; she knew herself to be canny, and too blunt and impatient with fools for polite society's expectation of the fairer sex. She also observed that William was obtuse to the woman's flirtations, apparently believing he'd found a sympathetic mind, when his conversation partner was clearly attracted to more than heavenly bodies. Laughing to herself, Julia sipped her wine as she noticed William suddenly startle, awkwardly clanking his knife against the china.

He looked alarmed for a moment, before quickly schooling his face back into a calm and companionable appearance. But Julia wasn't fooled, as she also noticed that the Mrs. Dorscheimer was also slightly moving her legs, clearly doing something with them under the table.

Judging from the uncomfortable look on William's face, Julia knew that he was now aware that his dining companion was flirting with him. She wasn't worried per se, as it was far from the first time a female had made a pass at her husband, and she knew William would not be having an affair with the woman, yet it was another reminder that she wouldn't be entertaining him later in such a way either.

Julia spent the remainder of dinner mostly in silence, drinking her wine.


	5. Riding Out the Storm

William was glad to have escaped the supper table with Julia. The rich, heavy food was not sitting well in his stomach; between the swells of the ocean and the uncomfortable interaction with Mrs. Dorscheimer he was feeling a little queasy. The woman had removed her shoes and slipped her feet up the leg of his trousers, rubbing his calf. He'd been embarrassed at first, then frustrated by the young matron's forward behaviour. For a short moment he wondered if the new fashion of men wearing wedding rings could have protected him from her advances, however his experience told him that nothing prevented some people from pressing their advantages. He managed to grin and bear it: the only woman whose interest he was trying to cultivate was his wife's.

He'd gotten through the meal, politely and firmly deflecting unwanted physical and verbal attentions, by spending as much time as possible talking with the other guests and Julia. After they were finished, he wanted her to come away so he could talk with her since her initial good humour evaporated over the course of their meal, and she seemed pinched and tired by the time the Captain excused himself back to his duties. Because Julia was so subdued, he took a rain check on the Captain's offer of a look into the ship's Marconi instrumentation.

He escorted her out of the saloon on his arm, pausing briefly to enjoy another of the many blazing hearths. Helping Julia down onto a small divan, they both sat before the fire, luxuriating in the warmth. When he felt her relax after a few moments and lay her head on his shoulder, he pulled her closer, grasping her hand. Neither spoke a word, merely sitting in companionable silence while listening the crackling fire until they were interrupted by a footman with a note for William.

Reading it quickly, he scowled before standing up and throwing it in the fire.

"It was Mrs. Dorscheimer, wasn't it? I suppose she invited you to her suite later, didn't she?" she quietly asked, feeling small and inadequate.

"Y..yes. Julia, you know…" he stammered before she interrupted.

"I know, William. I know," she replied, taking his hand in hers again. "Take me back to the suite now, please," the peaceable moment was over, and Julia was tense again.

Nodding, he stood and helped her up, escorting her back to her their stateroom. He knew Julia wasn't angry at him, but the actions of Mrs. Dorscheimer served as yet another reminder that not all was well between them. Unfortunately, their journey back took them through the atrium where a pair of lovers was enjoying a fervent embrace. William averted his eyes, not for the couple's privacy, but to take his own mind away from his desire for Julia. They hadn't made love for weeks even though Julia had initially assured him that it would not harm the baby. As the pregnancy progressed, she had fallen into moodiness, so for the last two or three months she was rather irritated with him and not at all interested in intimacy. He wondered if making love would be more effective for resolving their troubles than talking, after all.

He quickly scolded himself as they returned to their cabin and he helped her undress and get ready for bed. He hated that he was even thinking such a thing, as if relations between them depended on, well… _relations._

 _The problem is, it feels like it is true._

Not much else was said as they undressed and got ready for bed. This time he signaled his preference for sleeping in the nude and they were soon huddled together to keep warm, snug under the covers as the ship rocked them. William's disquiet built with Julia's extended silence, because it usually meant that she was "thinking" ….

At a loss to fix a problem he only barely understood, William tried distraction. "You seemed to be more relieved than usual to shed your corset tonight. The Windsor does not usually provide a ten course supper." He patted his own stomach. "I don't think I can eat like that for our entire trip, none of my clothing will fit."

"That _is_ the one advantage of a corset, William. One cannot really eat very much while wearing one," she shifted a bit. "Or bend, or lift, run or _breathe_ for that matter. Women do faint all the time under the crushing encumbrance." She looked up at him, one side of her mouth turned down. "They _are_ truly wretched things. I was thinking earlier about how comfortable and liberating men's clothing is. I imagine the entire female race would be so much more productive if their garments were not so restrictive... I know I would. Of course the other advantage of a corset is that they do seem to titillate you," she teased, making an effort to insert some levity into the conversation.

William managed a chuckle. "Ah, yes….do you mean my reaction to you in or out of it, hmmmm?"

"Is there a difference? You seem to enjoy both," she giggled.

"I do...but removing it is my distinct pleasure. One I jealously guard," he answered. William allowed himself to relax a bit more. Julia seemed to have forgotten the uncomfortable situation at supper, and it felt more like the two of them on any normal day, talking before sleep as they were used to doing. _It has been a while for this as well_ ….he kissed the top of her head and told her his thoughts.

"It _has_ been a while...too long. I miss you, William. I know that sounds strange, I see you every day, but I miss this. I miss us," she murmured, snaking her fingers through his hair.

That sweet gesture of hers stirred him, while the sudden lust for his wife surprised him. He struggled to hide the physical results; considering their intertwined position, it was not going to be easy. He shifted aside a bit and tried to think of something else, anything else than her body. "You seemed to run out of energy pretty early tonight. I am not surprised…"

"Yes, I suppose that's true. I guess everything has taken its toll on me and some rest is a good thing," she admitted, shifting against him and feeling the unmistakable proof of his desire. To ignore it would be to ignore the proverbial elephant in the room. "I know that you have needs as well, William. I haven't been a very good wife in that regard I suppose," she admitted

 _Oh, dear…_ William saw the danger zone ahead. He petted her to give hismelf time to respond. "Julia, please don't think that way. I cannot help wanting you, but it is _you_ I want, not just some physical release."

"William, you have been remarkable for the past few months, through everything, and I know you wouldn't ever entertain the thought of an affair with another woman. Our carnal attraction for one another has always served as an anchor of this relationship. Yes, I know we love and respect one another in every sense, but we also immensely enjoy one another physically, and we haven't been lately, William. I'm not yet healed, and I know you're not asking, however I'm _aware_ , William. I miss _**us**_!" she confessed.

He hugged her and exhaled. In fact, in a small corner of his mind, he'd been concerned that her desire for him, which had been insatiable for a brief, glorious few weeks while they were trying to conceive, had gone dormant, or worse, was something his anger had damaged so badly it would never grow back. "You must take all the time you need. These past few weeks have been very difficult and busy for you...anyone would need time to recharge their batteries."

"I don't think I realized how exhausted I've been; I always saw myself as stronger than that. Everything that has happened has made me reflect on…well the pace of my life. Perhaps it is time to slow down, to be more appreciative," she admitted.

"You are the strongest individual I know, Julia. Slowing down, savouring the moment is fine with me."

William wondered what else was behind her statement. Seeing as she was more open and comfortable, he did not know if it was an opportunity to explore or a reason to leave it alone. He'd never gotten the opportunity to really apologize for his anger...now might be an opportune moment.

"Julia, speaking of tending to each moment...I wish to say how very sorry I am for speaking with you so harshly. I was so hurt and sad and angry, not only at you. I certainly was taking it out on others as well. I think that was why I needed a distraction, and I suppose why I needed to escape, before I took anything any further…" He was not sure he wanted to tell her the rest, unfortunately she'd already seen his broken knuckles. She did not need to be a pathologist to know what caused that….

"You _were_ incredibly hurtful; as you said, neither of us were in control of our emotions. I've done hurtful things to you in the past and I've never apologized as you just did. As for a distraction, well, I suppose I had my own. I know you think I may not have cared about losing our child. That was _not_ true: quite the opposite. I needed to be focused on something, _anything_ , in order to not fall apart. I think I found the strength because it was Nate who was in trouble," she admitted. "You know I have never been one to sit on the sidelines." She pressed herself closer to William, speaking in an apologetic voice. "You wanted to embrace the grief and talk about it, I was terrified it would consume me."

He managed a smile. "I believe you once told me I was not the only one who lived in their mind."

William pulled his arms tighter around her. "I understand perfectly. After all, I did an abrupt stint as a private detective for similar reasons." He placed a kiss on her brow. "I really do understand the instinct for loyalty as well as needing some kind of purpose."

"Hmmm, does this mean that you'll be serving as a private detective more often? Leaving the Constabulary? Going into business with Freddie Pink?" she teased, hooking her leg over his hips, pulling them yet closer.

William sighed. "Good Lord, no! While Miss Pink and I do make a good team, she is rather headstrong for my taste." William knew he was referencing his own wife as well-one stubborn women in his life was enough. "I think the best I can hope for is to get my job back when we return. Detective Watts is turning out to be satisfactory in his rather disorganized way...I don't want him to replace me!"

"No one will ever replace you, William. I would know, I certainly tried when I thought…" she trailed off and looked up at him with a smile.

"Good thing you changed your mind…." William teased back. "As far as the constabulary…you know, I do think I'd prefer George replace me eventually. He was unfairly set back from promotion, but I think he will persevere. As much as I'd never want to lose him, he deserves to be called detective even now. When I get back to Toronto, I think the inspector and myself will have to work on that." He reached over and turned the cabin light off. "In the meantime, let's try for some sleep…"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Somewhere in the night the seas grew rougher as the long-awaited storm boiled from east to west across the Atlantic. Julia woke to the not so gentle sway of the ship and with little thought, bolted to the wash room and threw up.

"Ugh, this morning sickness is all day and night," she muttered out loud to no one in particular while waiting for the feeling to pass. Her stomach emptied, and she didn't catch her train of thought until she'd sat back on her heels and realized that there was no baby to be causing her gastro-intestinal issues. She was just suffering from sea sickness.

William woke up to his wife's retching, and when she did not come back to bed, he threw the covers off and came over to the small toilet, holding on to the doorframe to steady himself. "Julia? Are you alright?" Her expression was so anguished he immediately fetched a blanket to wrap her in and knelt down to help her up and over to one of the overstuffed armchairs. "The Captain was trying to steer south of the storm, and failed it seems."

"I see," she whispered, wiping tears from her face. "I forgot that I miscarried," she whispered. "I didn't realize that this wasn't morning sickness, but sea sickness. Can you imagine how much worse this would have been if I'd been pregnant," she laughed bitterly.

Her words slammed into him, rendering him mute. He shook his head, murmured, " _No_ …" and grabbed his robe so he could sit next to her. More tears slid down her cheeks, so he offered a handkerchief, and tried to think. "I meant to say….I suppose the combination is quite difficult…." William floundered. "Can I get you something to quell the nausea? Perhaps you have something in your bag, or I can fetch something from the ship's surgeon?"

"No, I believe that it's passed. There's nothing left in my stomach anyway," she replied, grimacing at the dual meaning behind that statement as she gestured for William to give her a hand. "Help me back to bed?"

"Of course." William stood to assist when a jolt from the ship nearly took him of his feet. "I am not sure going to bed will help. It is better to be upright to ride this out." He gave her a searching look. "Has that happened before...not realizing you lost the baby?"

"Sometimes when I first wake up I forget that she's not with me anymore, then the truth always returns. You're here with me now. I actually thought that I'd lost both of you for a couple of days," she shrugged as William helped settle her back into a chair. She would have liked to have been held, but William was right, sitting up was better.

William felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He was still plagued with difficult feelings he'd rather not explore in any depth, especially if it shredded the peace with Julia. On the other hand, to ignore what she said was just as dangerous. "I am here now, where I wish to be. And you want me to be here, with you, now. Our loss is shared…"

Looking up at him, she nodded. _Yes, he was here_ …and she couldn't wait any longer. She wanted to know.

"William, do you really believe that I didn't care whether or not the baby lived? Did you think that it didn't make a difference to me? That I didn't think of her as a child?" she asked, knowing her hurt was clearly writ across her face and fully present in her voice.

William was warry. _Have we not already addressed this?_ Seeing her pain moved him. He made sure he had her eyes. "Julia, please understand that I was shocked. I am so sorry, but the truth is I did in fact react that way in the moment." He tried to say that slowly, to stay connected to her, be strong enough to take her anger and hurt, which washed over him more powerfully than the ocean was battering the _Lucania_. When she tried to withdraw her hand, he held on tight.

"I heard you defend abortion, without any reservations and I took that with some of your other behaviors and jumped to a horrible conclusion. It was too much to bear…" his voice rasped with the memory. Julia was staring at him, her face a mask of outrage.

"Were you angry because I could counsel other doctors on the topic? Do you truly think so little of me or Miss James? We're all indifferent, callous murderers?" she couldn't help speaking in a higher voice. "How did I get you so wrong? I thought you were different. You know how much I wanted her, don't you understand what I went through to conceive her? Or did you not worry yourself about it because you only had to concern yourself with the more enjoyable aspects!" she snapped at him, her voice loud to compete with the storm's onslaught outside.

Julia tried to stand despite the pitching of the floor. William grabbed her and firmly placed her in the chair, regardless of her protests of " _How dare you?!"_ He seldom exerted himself this way, but this was no time for diplomacy with his heart was pounding and his breath shallow and rapid. "Julia! For God's sake, listen to me! Do you want me to patronize you or tell you the truth?" He nearly shouted.

It was only when she blinked that he continued. "I told you I reacted, there in the moment, based in large part on what you had just told me and on what I had come to believe, even if I know now that I was incorrect. You then accused me of having no compassion and of blaming you for the death of our child!" He saw that she was struggling to hear him. "I said I believed in the moment...not what I believe now."

 _And you have no idea at all, do you, about what all of that nearly cost me?_ He managed to keep those words behind his teeth.

"When I went to you for comfort, because we were both hurting as you keep telling me, you stepped away from me in disgust. William, you _did_ blame me for the death of our child. I asked if you truly believed that God was punishing us for my abortion all those years ago, and you said nothing. There was no compassion there, only judgment and righteous anger. My God, William, I will never forget the look of disgust and contempt on your face in that moment. In that moment William, I saw what your father must have been like: cruelly indifferent!" she countered, gasping when she saw the effect her words had.

William was floored. Their entire argument replayed in his head, each word and gesture sickening him more than the lurch of the ship ever could. That Julia saw his father in him was appalling. _And something I already recognized, if only she knew the whole of it._ He let go of her, but did not move. Taking in a breath, he made his voice as flat and calm as possible. "You are right, I did those things," he said simply. There was no point in trying to get her to see his point of view, because it did not matter. He had already forgiven her, probably something she'd actually be offended by, and clearly she was not going to forgive him, if ever.

The only thing he could offer was his honest heart. He spoke it softly, slowly: "Julia, I am so very sorry. I know I cannot ask for your forgiveness….But If you believe the worst of me, where does that leave us?"

Julia started crying. "I want to forgive you, to forget it, yet it hurts so much. I never thought you would do such a thing to me. What if you bring this up again? Why did you want to hurt me as much as you did? Was it because you were angry I lost our daughter?" she wondered, now overcome by tears.

William's own eyes filled. He pulled his chair as close as possible to hers, reaching over to tentatively hold her. When she did not push him away, he settled his arms around her. "No. Not that. I was never angry because you were not going to bear me a child. Julia, can't you see we each misperceived the other? We were both right...and so wrong."

He saw the face she made and rushed forward to soothe her. "No, I am not implying we are 'even', however, neither of us was without sin here. If I can understand your point of view, is it too much to ask you to appreciate mine? I did lash out because of what I believed..." His throat closed up in protest.

 _Do I tell her, everything? Was that not the problem that got us into this in the first place, not sharing enough so that the other person misperceived?_ His nerve nearly failed him. _Wasn't it better to leave this alone?_ Julia became restless, waiting for him to answer.

"I will tell you, tell you all of it, Julia. Then you can decide where that leaves us." He backed off, sadness overcoming him. "For a moment, I did wonder if the sins of the father were going to be visited on the sons…It was an unworthy superstition. And I did wonder if your past abortion was the cause of the miscarriage… you had warned me your abortion scarred you. I think that was a natural conclusion, not one of blame…"

She nodded to that, so he went on. "I believed that you assisted in procuring an abortion." Another nod. "You were angry when I told you I felt conflicted. Both the Catholic Church and the law have strong objections to abortion. I wish I could have you understand how hard it was to hear you talk about your beliefs the way you did, right then and there in that moment, so soon after we lost…" William's heart clenched so hard he could not speak. The memory of Julia's blazing, defiant words overwhelmed him again for a moment.

He blew out a breath to relieve the pressure in his chest. _There was nothing for it, I might as well not hold back_. "Julia, before we married you promised not to interfere with me as a practicing Catholic. I believed your actions violated that and I believed that there was not going to be any way I could reconcile having both you and remain fully in the Church-I was going to have to surrender one or the other." He could barely whisper. "Then, in one breath I lost... _everything_."

Taking in all he had said, she scrubbed her face with her hands. As much as William's Catholicism made her feel her feel judged and lacking, it also gave her an extraordinary man who was nothing like any other man she had ever known. William and his religion were inseparable, and she benefited from it far more than she suffered. Looking at him, she had only one question: "Why?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why what?

"Why did you forgive me all those years ago?...After I ran away, and married Darcy. What I did was unforgivable William, yet you forgave me and took me back with no hesitation, why?"

"Why?" He was so, so surprised at this turn in subject. Was forgiveness so foreign to her? He considered what she was asking. Her own father was, in her opinion, stiff necked and unforgiving, and she treated him in kind. _Was that the issue? Was that why she cannot forgive me?_

"Why?" he repeated. A new memory, one so indelible and deep it swept away all else. Instead of Julia's drawn and tear-stained face he saw her glowing in that New Year's Eve red dress. "Because my prayers were answered." He smiled in pleasure, yet searching her face and seeing only doubt there.

He shook his head. _How to explain?_ How can he possibly explain deep faith to a good woman who was a permanent skeptic? _Why did she want to know this_ _now_ _?_ He knew that his answer was important, that his future hung on it being the right thing to say.

Except he did not know at all what to say. The silence chasmed uncomfortably between them forcing him to come to a decision. _Only the truth…._

"Julia, being Catholic is founded on redemption. I love you. Forgiveness is possible, is necessary, because I love you." As he said this he tentatively touched her hand. _Could she accept that?_ "I felt blessed. To have you is all I have ever wanted..." William's pulse raced, his unsteadiness not only the result of the storm which raged outside.

Julia remained so quiet, so still he was certain she was either going to laugh at him or banish him again

Blowing her nose with the handkerchief balled up in her hand, she nodded. "All I wanted was you, William. I didn't leave to punish you, I left you before you could leave me. Because who would ever want a barren woman? The Bible is full of stories of women whose husbands took a second wife or concubine to conceive a child because their wife was barren," she rambled, clearly upset now. "I left Toronto, my home, because I could not bear to see you marry another, watch her carry your child, and by doing so I hurt you badly. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"Julia... _now_ who is jumping to conclusions without checking out all the facts? It seems I am not the only one guilty of that." It was out of his mouth before he realized it.

William flushed and shook his head. "Oh Julia, I thought all of this was behind us. I have been completely truthful with you. Every day of my life with you is the happiest I could ever have imagined. In this world, you are my everything…" William's heart was breaking because Julia would not meet his eyes. "I have no idea what it will take to convince you…." he paused, trying to still his shaking hands. I _f she cannot believe in what she cannot see, then I have already lost her._ "If I cannot tell you, if you cannot hear me, then I am left with nothing."

Julia's insecurity flared into anger. "You want everything, William. You want me, but you also want a child with me, and I can't give it to you, as much as I want to, and oh, how I wish I could, _I can't!_ I wanted to be a mother too, but first Roland, and now this. As much as I want it, I have to accept that it wasn't meant to be. I don't want to try again. I can't go through this again, I know you want to, that because we did it once we can do it again, but I can't bear this loss one more time. I hurt you, William. I got your hopes up, cruelly. I should never have done what I did, because my abortion all those years ago is why I miscarried. I am so sorry that my actions have caused you this pain," she cried.

If he thought his heart was breaking before, it was shattered now. His wife was sobbing inches away from him and he was afraid to comfort her...which was one mistake he was not going to make again. William pulled her, blanket and all, into his chair, holding her on his lap while she cried. For a long while the best he could do was. "No, no, no…." and "Shhhh…" while rocking her.

Eventually her tears slowed enough for him to speak. "When I suggested we try again that was to encourage you, not insist. It occurred to me only later that undergoing a miscarriage might bring up... painful associations." She stirred in his arms, but did not put her head up.

"I wanted Mary, William. I don't know how to convince you this was different, but it was. My previous pregnancy was a calamity. I'd behaved foolishly and thought I was in love with him, but he was a cad, and I couldn't bear the thought of being with him for the rest of my life. I've told you before that my pregnancy carried implications that would have hurt the other women I was studying with. It was bigger than me, and I….I still don't regret my choice, William. But I _do_ regret the consequences. I regret that my recklessness led to this moment, this reality. I can't have a child with the man I love, I'll never be a mother, and I wish I could. I wanted this child, our child. She was different, William, and I wish there was a way I could convince you of that," she admitted quietly.

William exhaled, shaking his head, unbelieving they were still at such an apparent deadlock. "Julia…. You never needed to convince me...I knew that. I knew that as soon as I calmed down enough to think. I know that because we laid her to rest together,because we spent the last few days sharing our sadness," he assured her. "We may never agree on the moral aspects of abortion, and I pray we can find a way though that, together, but you have my word that I do believe you wanted our baby, cherished and mourned her as much as I. If this is your insecurity, your doubt about me, about us, then please put that to rest. I can be fully who I am and you can be fully who you are. We may need to share a compromise, as long as it is out of respect."

She remained downcast and so stiff, William had no idea how to reach her. He recognized that this was possibly an example of Julia being stubborn, and in this case it was not serving either of them well. He searched madly for a way to connect with her so she could believe him.

"Julia, I have a confession." He reached for her cheek, gently pulling her face towards his, making sure she was attentive. "I have lied to you before. I know exactly when that was...it was when you asked me if I liked Turkish coffee at the Rowing Club." He felt her startle then choke out an involuntary chuckle. "And that is the only time Julia. I tell you now that I am content to be childless. If you know me to be an honest person then may I ask you to believe me, once and for all?"

"You really pretended to like coffee, William? Just to spend time with me?" She laid her head on his shoulder and laughed.

"Yes. Bitter, horrid stuff, in my opinion…Julia? I will swear on the BIble that I do not need fatherhood to be happy...but I do need you. I took vows before God and man that I plan to keep."

She buried her face in his neck and inhaled his scent, taking pleasure in his presence. "I am sorry if I interfered with your faith. It was not my intention," she whispered.

"I was willing to give even that up for you by marrying in a civil ceremony. Your willingness to marry in my Church was such a gift to me, I am not sure I ever really explained what it meant to me."

"I may not fully understand or appreciate everything, but I knew it was no small matter. I knew I couldn't give you a child, but I could give you a marriage blessed by the church. I wanted you to know that while I pursued a divorce with Darcy, I would never do so with you. Marrying Darcy and all the tragedy that ensued is my greatest mistake. I wanted you to know that our marriage was different. It would never be a mistake."

William managed a smile. "I should hope not. I am not about to let you go, not willingly, no matter our differences. We are better together." He noticed some daylight coming through the porthole into their stateroom, and that the ship was no longer taking rough seas. He shifted Julia out of his lap, re-wrapping the soft silk around her, then led her to the dressing table bench. He did not notice her hair was all pulled out of her braid or the red around her eyes. The only thing he noticed was that love of his life was looking back at _him_ with love.

Julia sent an eyebrow up when he open up the dressing table drawer to pull out a small _cloisonné_ box. "I noticed that you did _not_ leave this behind in Toronto when you packed..." William opened the box, showing her the gold lemniscate pendant he had commissioned for her. "I found this in your luggage."

"I couldn't bear to part with it, even if the symbolism it stood for was painful. In a way, this is all I have left of our endeavor, and all the joy and pain that accompany it," Julia said, fingering the pendant.

"You know, this object should _not_ exist. " He walked behind her to place it around her neck and fasten the clasp. "The Möbius strip has the mathematical property of being unorientable, making it unique in all the world. It has only one edge and one surface, yet it is three-dimensional. If one were to try and destroy it, cut it in half lengthwise, instead of two separate pieces, one still has a single, united whole." He stood behind her, both of them looking in the mirror. "This object is theoretically impossible, yet this exists, harmonious and as beautiful as its owner."

Touching the pendant, looking at him looking at her in the mirror, Julia melted. _This man!_

William grinned tentatively back at her. "You were right when you suggested we are like magnets, either drawn together or repulsed, depending on what end you present to the other. We are also like this," he pointed to her décolletage. "Perhaps _we_ should not exist either. Yet, we do. We have found a way to be together, Julia...contradictions and all." He found her eyes with his, brown and blue magnets connecting, locking up tight. "We will not always find common ground, we will argue. We may hurt each other. It may never be perfect between us…but, Julia, can it be enough?" William's heart was racing, hoping for her to agree, _Please God..._

""Neither of us are perfect, William, not even DaVinci's Mona Lisa at the Louvre, yet I do believe we are perfect for one another," she said with a smile. "So yes, it will be more than enough, William. It's perfect for us."

 **-END- (for now)**

* * *

 **Dear Reader: we hope you liked our story! Reviews/comments are encouraged (and feed and water the next story to come...hint...hint.) We deliberately wrote this one from two different points of view, trying to channel what we imagined Julia and William were thinking, feeling and believing. Trying to stay "in character" has been very interesting…. We wrote quite a bit of it in real-time, one character speaking to another and eliciting spontaneous responses as if they were having a conversation. Neither of us knew what the next sentence was going to be that we'd have to react to, or where the conversation was going to lead.**

 **We are going to keep writing, because there is still work/conflict that is not resolved between them, so you will have a new story (in the fullness of time.) But….we imagine that you have formed your own impressions of the episodes and wondered if our story confirmed your POV or helped change it. (For instance, did J throw him out or did W abandon her….? Did William really find a way to reconcile remaining a practicing Catholic** **and** **stay with Julia, or did he have to give up the full practice of his faith to have her like he was willing to do once before? )**

 **The two of us are still debating, so why not you too? Let us know how** _**you**_ **interpreted the story….**

 **We would like to thank JH for her very helpful and insightful commentary, Dutch for a quick Beta, Big Red for taking care of business, and Little E for "helping". This work is better because of their efforts, but all mistakes remain ours.**


End file.
